


crossfire

by blkpnk



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/F, Guns, Injury, One Shot, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blkpnk/pseuds/blkpnk
Summary: It is only natural in the balance of things for opposing sides to clash.
Relationships: Jennie Kim/Reader
Kudos: 44





	crossfire

**Author's Note:**

> y/n = your name
> 
> re-edited and re-posted original work

In the haste to the bedroom, the blinds had not been drawn. Now, a streetlight’s orange glow fell in slats across the floor, climbing the disheveled bed, and saturated the smooth expanse of skin upon your lover’s abdomen. It completely captured your attention.

When Jennie was at your apartment, moonlight would pour upon her skin, alighting her with an ethereal aura. Here? The only light was artificial and yet, it still made her appear beautiful. Whereas before her skin seemed emit the light, it was here that she seemed to be the only warmth left in a dark world. The light didn’t reach you, leaving you in shadows. For that reason, you were drawn to touch her.

Even when you ran the pads of your fingers over her ribs, Jennie didn’t so much as stir, let alone wake up. These days, she was often exhausted. It made you sad to see her so overworked, but you knew in the end, she was doing what she loved. Jennie was protecting her city, a call she had felt since she was young, once confessed to you on a similar night. Resting your fingers on her diaphragm, you let the measured rise and fall of her breathing rock your hand like a little boat riding gentle waves. You took a moment to close your eyes and just let yourself be close to her. To feel her. Soaking up the knowledge that she was safe and sound. With you.

It was getting too much. With an inaudible sigh, your hand ghosted down Jennie’s stomach to her hip bones, just the bit that wasn’t covered by her bedsheets. It was there with the slightest bit more force that you flicked your index finger over the crest, as though you were running your finger over a knife’s edge. There were plenty more ways that Jennie was beautiful, but in this moment, you couldn’t help but admire her physical beauty.

To the department, Jennie was still considered new. To you, what you saw behind closed doors, Jennie was seasoned. Being a police officer was hard, admirable work. She willingly put herself in a position, that with today’s society, was often hated. Somehow, she did her job well, all with a smile on her face. Of course, she could be serious. There many things about her career that warranted that. But when she had the opportunity, she used her given power to prove that she was a good person, protecting the innocent. Not some monster the media painted from a different perspective.

The real monster was the person beside her.

Jennie had no idea what you really did. What you told her was that you worked in an accounting firm. It explained why you had a nicer apartment than she did, but hardly. While your job actually did include money, it was certainly not by legal terms.

You were the messenger in a broad underground drug circuit. Technically, you weren’t in the mafia. The only thing that dirtied your hands was laundered money, the only weapons you were armed with was your tongue in the form of threats. But when you rely on technicalities, you already know it’s wrong. Just because you weren’t technically a member of the mafia growing in your city doesn’t mean you weren’t in league with them. After all, they were the ones who put money in your bank account and posted security detail around your apartment — you also happened to be in a position to be hated, if not more than Jennie.

Flopping back on the bed, you stared up at the darkened ceiling. The contrast was too ironic, Jennie cast in a heroic shine while you remained in the shadows. In the beginning it had been easier. To lie to her, to hide the truth. Back then, it was _genuinely_ easier. The mafia didn’t fly in the face of the law, and the police didn’t laser focus on the source of the rising crime. Months passed, you bumped up the ranks, and as you saw the efforts of your messenger work showering into your hands, you also saw how it affected Jennie.

As if she knew she was a part of your thoughts, Jennie turned in her sleep, shuffling closer to you. It was reflex now, the way you reached out and wrapped her up in your arms to close the gap between your bodies. A hum bubbled up the back of your throat at how warm she was. Not just against your skin, but the sensation you felt seeping through your body. It was like being near Jennie comforted you to your soul. Chasing away the numb that had settled since you forfeited your morals and accepted the life you had now.

Jennie nuzzled against your neck, her nose brushing your jugular. It felt protective, and it made you smile. It was just like her. Even in her sleep, Jennie would protect you. You noted long ago how the littlest gestures spoke of the natural guardian inside her — pulling you back by the crook of your elbow right before an unaware bicyclist nearly ran you over, a hand flying to your chest when she was forced to brake abruptly, watching every drink you ever took at a bar to make sure that it hadn’t been tampered with when you weren’t paying attention.

You never cried. It wasn’t your thing. Maybe it had something to do with that numb that blanketed your body, because as you laid there with Jennie in your arms, tears sprung to your eyes. The empty ceiling disappeared as you screwed your eyes shut. Regulate your breathing, keep the tears at bay. There was no way you would wake up Jennie in the middle of the night because you were crying like a baby. Not when she definitely needed the rest.

Not when you knew that if she woke up and questioned you, you would tell Jennie _everything_.

* * *

Another night, another collect.

You took the last dying drag of your cigarette and then flicked the butt into the gutter. Behind your back laid the brick of a pizza store after close, where you knew one of your more prominent drug dealers worked late. Also nursing his cigarette was one of the mafia’s bodyguards, standing at the mouth of the alley. Watching. You knew this bodyguard, Craig. When he first told you his name, you thought it was a joke, a basic title given by the mafia to protect his identity. He never did give you an answer, but you suspected you were right. A lot of your jobs included him, or one of the other bodyguards, provided by the higher-ups to make sure transactions went “smoothly.” That was code for intimidating deserters and making sure no one saw anything they weren’t supposed to.

The whine of metal bounced down the narrow aisle, and you cast a side-long gaze at the young man as he stepped out of the pizza store. Immediately noticing you, you watched his eyes flit between you and then the bodyguard’s formidable stature throwing a long shadow from the street. There was a 50/50 chance he would bolt, not that you would be shocked either way, but then he seemed to weigh his options and took off his backpack. Good. This would be over soon and you could go home.

Wait for Jennie to return safely home.

The dealer strode up to the beat of his shoes splashing dirty rain water. A hand fished through the depths of his backpack, probably discovering a hidden compartment he fashioned himself to retrieve the money. You kept your eyes on him, part of maintaining the role. All you had to do was trust that Craig could keep it cool in public eye so you could finish the transaction, drop it off back at the warehouse, and be on your way. On the outside, that appeared most notably as mildly disinterested.

After a moment, the dealer withdrew his hand. A fat stack of cash passed into your hands, and you were thankful that it wasn’t a gun drawn on you (it’s happened before). You thumbed the stack, flipping through quickly to make sure there weren’t any false bills filling the inside or notes smaller than you expected. It seemed to be in order, and even if the warehouse proved it wasn’t, the mafia knew exactly how to treat a cheater.

“Next pick up is on the 27th,” you stated evenly. The dealer nodded, grimacing a bit like he was uncomfortable and rather be anywhere else. You gestured with the stack of cash, indicating he could leave. The way back lead to a dead end of trash, so the only way out was pass you and the bodyguard, out onto the street. Perhaps his real fear resided with the fact that he would have walk by the bodyguard. Bodyguards _were_ scary, if you thought about it.

As soon as he couldn’t see your face, you let the mask slip a little. The pick-ups were getting bigger, more frequent as the mafia’s influence spread like a virus. That meant the penalty was more severe as well. If you were caught with this much money in your possession —

A strange scream wailed from the background, bright lights illuminating the alleyway. Air didn’t even reach your lungs as you choked on a gasp, spinning around in time to see a police squad car shuddering to a stop under a streetlight.

Your bodyguard whipped around in your direction. The shove to the drug dealer had him sprawling to the wet ground with a terrified yelp as the bodyguard sprinted towards you, seizing you by the arm and practically dragging you.

“ _Stop!_ We don’t want to shoot you!”

Something like panic filled your chest as you reached the barbwire fence separating the pair of you from the other side of the alley. Your only way out.

“Climb, now!” your bodyguard commanded, pushing you toward the trash that you began to scramble up toward the fence. Cold links bit into your hands as you attempted to scale the obstacle. How you were going to deal with the barbwire, you weren’t sure yet, but then you heard it.

“Last chance!” a female voice hollered. “Give up or we’ll open fire!”

You’ve never heard that tone of voice before. Probably because you had never been in the situation to witness it. And that’s why it took you so long to recognize the voice. When you did, it could only be her.

“Wait, stop!” you screamed.

Loose asphalt sank deep into the flesh of your knees and palms as you fell back down the trash.

Above you, a gun revealed itself from the folds of the bodyguard’s suit.

“ _Don’t shoot!_ ” you screamed louder, even as it felt as you were about to pass out from lack of oxygen.

Someone was crying. You blinked and made out the fetal position of the drug dealer, crying against the wall.

All it took was a couple swift seconds.

_One._

You couldn’t hear yourself screaming anymore.

_Two._

You saw her. Jennie. Dark hair fixed into a bun made her features sharper in the headlights. It also highlighted the fraction of a moment it took for her expression to shift from anger to stunned.

_Three._

Your bodyguard fired a single shot.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

The ground jarred against your back. A bone deep pain rooted itself in your chest. The most surprising aspect of being shot was that you could still breathe.

The couple seconds that passed after that went pretty slowly.

For some reason, you couldn’t get up. It felt like the bullet had sapped you of all your strength the moment it ripped into you. All you could manage was lifting your head to look down at your body.

 _Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea_ — tears sprung to your eyes for the second time that week. Yeah, it fucking hurt, this hole in the middle of your chest. But what really had you crying was knowing you were going to die. Red leaked down your sternum, pooling on your stomach. Underneath you, you could imagine was a similar looking puddle. There was so much already. Didn’t it just happen?

“Y/N? Listen to me — you’re going to be okay!”

The only person that could bring you comfort in this cold, dark world. Jennie. Your vision swam, blurring the lines of her face as she kneeled over you. What was she thinking right now? Did she hate you? Did she want you to die after all?

“Baby? Can you hear me? They’re coming, okay! _They’re coming!_ Stay with me, please!”

Maybe not. That was good. The last thing you wanted to think about while you still could was that the woman you loved hated you. _You_ hated you. If you had never gotten mixed up in all this shit, you wouldn’t be bleeding out onto the ground for Jennie to see.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. You could still breathe, shockingly, but it wasn’t filling you like before. The next inhale was shorter. Of their own accord, your eyes slid to the sky. Damn the city. You couldn’t see the stars.

“Don’t you _fucking apologize_ to me.” A hand took you by the chin, the shake to your head seeming to settle things back into place temporarily. Jennie glared down at you but the effect was lost in the tears that danced on her eyelashes. “You’re not leaving me. We’re going to figure this out. Because you’re going to live.”

“Please don’t be mad.” God, was that your voice? It sounded so small. What were you talking about?

_Please don’t be mad when I leave you all alone._

“You’re not going to die, you hear me?” Whoa, that was a tremble. Still, Jennie was firm. Stoic, even if her voice betrayed her. “You’re not going to die because I won’t let you. I love you, okay? _I love you._ ”

This time when the sky disappeared as you closed your eyes, it was with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> "Can I get a story where Jennie is a cop and the reader is in mafia and they are dating but Jennie doesn’t know and they each other between a crossfire between cops and mafia"
> 
> i love this cause i'm a glutton for angst askldjhkw lmao


End file.
